A gangly figure in a hoodie shows up, shuffling into the building and seeming to do his very best to not be noticed or in the way. He doesn't come across so much as shady as he does, well, withdrawn and shy. His hands are shoved into his coat's pockets and he hurries over to the nearest, most handy corner of the building.
Of course, being the clutzy fellow he is, his attempts to be inconspicuous are in vain when he trips over a folding chair's leg. But he stumbles, catches himself, then looks around and offers a quiet, "Sorry..." that isn't loud enough to be heard by anyone who could have been disturbed by the clanging he just caused. Then he grabs that chair, along with a second one, and drags them with him to an out-of-the-way spot, soon plopping down into it with a soft sigh.
The second chair is for St. John, if/when he decides to show up. But Ramon's not going to protest very much if someone else tries to occupy it before the other boy arrives.
Oh, St. John shows up, sir. In a way that Ramon should no doubt be familiar with by now, even after all that time away (we don't talk about that >__>) - all hunched shoulders and scrunchy little angry face, hands jammed in his pockets. There's a light scratch down one side of his face, and when his hands emerge from their denim blockade, the same faint marks cover them in a latticework of angry red.
That tree branch was sentient, dammit. And clearly malicious.
When he spots Ramon he doesn't exactly beeline, but he does make his way over there, rather than...you know, deliberately hiding in a leadlined bunker underground. It's a step in a slightly less incredibly mean direction? :D He sits down and everything, although of course he says nothing other than the requisite grunt of boydom.
"H-Hey, St. John." Under that hood, there's a tiny, grateful smile. Yay! Friendship! Companionship! Such as it is! Ramon wishes there was a way to hug Sinjin that wasn't totally gay, or would get him knocked out and/or set on fire.
Starting conversation with his reluctant companion is always risky business, and he's not sure sure he feels much like talking either. But just sitting here and respectively trying to be small and unnoticeable or brooding isn't much fun. And makes for a piss poor distraction from the horrifying display of nature's wrath outside.
"Probably lose the stained glass windows," he mumbles, divesting himself of one sopping hooded sweatshirt via draping it over the back of someone else's chair. It's close enough for him to keep an eye on it, but enough that it is not touching him, because wet. MOISTURE IS UNACCEPTABLE...apparently enough for capslock of uncomfortable disgust.
Meanwhile, perhaps Ramon is surprised at the relative courtesy of St. John's response - it probably won't last long, but...well, he's not as good at being alone as he used to be, you see. And he can't shake the feeling that Nica would have wanted him to keep Ramon around. This is a conclusion remarkably similar to 'water is wet.' Or more accurately in St. John's estimation, 'water totally sucks.'
"That'll be, um...a bummer if we do. I like 'em." He watches as St. John divests himself of his wet article of clothing, then his eyes are diverted to looking around the room at the others gathered here. This place doesn't exactly have the happiest memories for Ramon, so it's making him a bit more edgy than he'd like to admit.
And things have been...weird lately. Well, moreso than is usual in Hell. What with his and Sinjin's recent shared loss, and that pestersome gap in his memory, and now this sudden storm...Mmph. Not a happy time, overall.
"What are we, umm, going to do if-if the windows do break?" He asks this as he finally pulls down his hood. "Just...board 'em up, I g-guess?" He wonders where they're going to dig up big enough sheets of plywood to do so.
Scree goes one of the folding chairs, as it is unceremoniously hauled a few feet by an annoyed-looking blonde who does not care about your eardrums, no sir. Since arriving in Hell she's given up the idea of maintaining her own personal style (...meaning that, yes, she's abandoned the leather jacket at the theater, it's not very awesome mixed with the rain), but that doesn't mean she likes it. Goddammit.
Meanwhile, she will interrupt their conversation.
"Or you could become hippies. One with nature." ...Melissa is made of helpful, as always. There's a brief smile sent St. John's way, and a curious look for Ramon, as if he just appeared. "Hi."
Ah, the melodious sounds of one of Mel's glorious entrances. Given that the first time they met she screamed some bloodsucker kiddiewinks into icky doom, St. John pretty much associated her with shrill sounds. Therefore the chair-hauling is par for the course.
He waves loosely and shakes his head, water splattering everywhere. Probably it's a good thing they're not sitting near anyone else! "Thanks, no." Nature is crap! Or at least the precipitous parts of it are. "If I was any more one with nature I'd need a fucking wringer."
Aaanyway. This is where he fails spectacularly to introduce Ramon and Mel, because...well, he's kind of a douchebag and doesn't so much forget about social pleasantries so much as totally disregards them.
Well, the screeching makes Ramon jump, and he looks at the newcomer with wide eyes.
Ramon's been...away (yes, that's what we'll call his mysterious absence for now), and this girl is new! He'd remember pink hair, he's pretty sure of that. New people are a little scary. New people who are kind of outspoken (that's a nice word for it, isn't it?) are that much more so. Girl new people who happen to be outspoken are on par with finding a snake in the shower with you. Under the assumption you find snakes to be scary, or at least surprising. Anyways.
He's therefore staring at the girl longer than is probably considered socially acceptable. It's a long while before he tries to talk. "....H-Hi. Um." There's a nervous tug on one of his sleeves. "I'm. Ummm. Ramon?" He's still staring. Her pink hair's kinda cool. "...Wait, hip-hippies?" He doesn't get it. Poor shmuck.
"Eh. You're about there already, actually. S'just a hop, skip, and a jump to growing a beard and tie-dying your manpanties." Yes, manpanties. She sits straddling the back of the chair, because obviously that is more comfortable than normal posture, and gives Ramon a ...slightly fangy smile. This is how Mel does 'friendly' without actively trying to con somebody.
"I'm Melissa. St. John just pick you up, or are you somebody I haven't met yet?" What with how sociable she is and all, the latter would be unusual. ...getting tortured by a demon hospital and then taking it out on the nearest tall, sexually adventurous Roma boy is totally like having a post-apocalyptic social life.
St. John stops just short of opening his trousers to check, but manages to stop himself - because he is lazy, and not out of like...decency, or anything. Oh god, poor Ramon in the face of these two.
Also, because it's funny, he can't actually grow a beard. Not even under threat of death. It's just not possible. (as if threat of death stimulated folicular growth...what. ANYHOW.) This is one of the many reasons he will look 12 years old forever, and also results in an irritated eyeroll. "Leave off. Ramon's saving himself for the Virgin Mary."
Yes, this is how we express kindness in these parts! Why.
Well, Ramon is now suitably weirded the hell out! It was all uncomfortable enough with these things like socializing and new people, you just had to bring his virginity into the mix as well.
"I've...uhhhh, been here. A-A long time. In Hell, I mean. Hell, Wisconsin." In case you, uh, didn't know what state you're in, Melissa. Or were mistaking his statement for the actual, spiritual Hell. Oh Ramon, never stop being a dork.
"I-I was on the same, um, plane. As St. John was. That got us stuck here. And...yeah." Geezy creezy, talking to people is hard.
As Ramon sits down, a young girl with light blonde hair, azure blue eyes, and a pink t-shirt with a sparkly pony on it says, "You tripped!" She's grinning. People tripping is apparently very funny.
Bridgette's ghostly sister Marie is on the other side of the VFW, so Ramon's ghost sense may or may not be going off.
Oh. OH. A kid. Hey, kids are okay. Ramon likes them. They're easier to talk to than adults most of the time.
"Y-Yeah, I did," he replies with a lopsided smile and a self-defeated chuckle. "Wasn't, um, watching where I was going."
He was just considering asking what her name was, as he doesn't recall any children being prevalent in Hell, but he gets a very familiar, very chilling prickle on the back of his neck. And it makes him look around in a bit of a panic, wondering what's setting it off, if he's trapped in a room with one of them again. Oh this is bad, this is very bad...
"You really should," Bridgette replies like a teacher reprimanding her pupil.
There's a three year old girl with light blonde hair lying on one of the cots in the corner. She's curled around a teddybear; a backpack is on the floor next to the cot, and the one next to her is occupied by backpacks and a wagon full of supplies. Parker is helping Phoebe in the bathroom, allowing Bridgette to roam free.
The three year old is curled away from Ramon, but she wears a dirty pink dress, and the skin of her legs is looking rather corpse-grey and stained with dried blood.
Bridge begins glancing around when Ramon does, looking confused.
His palms are curled tightly around the insides of his sleeves and his breathing is growing more faint, but rapid. He keeps looking around, remembering now what happened last time he was in this place, how that woman came and shot herself, dear God, what if she's still in here...
But then his eyes fall on that inconspicuous little girl. She could have passed for an normal child at this distance and at a glance, but now that he's paying attention to her, he realizes how ratty her dress is, can see how her skin is grey, and the red stains...
Ramon's eyes are wide as he stares across the room at her, and he makes a low moan of dread.
...Whut? says Bridgette's expression. She turns and looks at her sister. Ramon. Marie. Ramon. Marie.
This goes on a bit while longer before Bridgette says, "Her name's Marie. That's her teddybear." Pause. Then lightbulb over head moment! "Are you afraid of teddybears? 'Cuz you shouldn't be."
Of course, being the clutzy fellow he is, his attempts to be inconspicuous are in vain when he trips over a folding chair's leg. But he stumbles, catches himself, then looks around and offers a quiet, "Sorry..." that isn't loud enough to be heard by anyone who could have been disturbed by the clanging he just caused. Then he grabs that chair, along with a second one, and drags them with him to an out-of-the-way spot, soon plopping down into it with a soft sigh.
The second chair is for St. John, if/when he decides to show up. But Ramon's not going to protest very much if someone else tries to occupy it before the other boy arrives.
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That tree branch was sentient, dammit. And clearly malicious.
When he spots Ramon he doesn't exactly beeline, but he does make his way over there, rather than...you know, deliberately hiding in a leadlined bunker underground. It's a step in a slightly less incredibly mean direction? :D He sits down and everything, although of course he says nothing other than the requisite grunt of boydom.
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Starting conversation with his reluctant companion is always risky business, and he's not sure sure he feels much like talking either. But just sitting here and respectively trying to be small and unnoticeable or brooding isn't much fun. And makes for a piss poor distraction from the horrifying display of nature's wrath outside.
"...S-Some storm, huh?" Oh gawd, small talk. Why.
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Meanwhile, perhaps Ramon is surprised at the relative courtesy of St. John's response - it probably won't last long, but...well, he's not as good at being alone as he used to be, you see. And he can't shake the feeling that Nica would have wanted him to keep Ramon around. This is a conclusion remarkably similar to 'water is wet.' Or more accurately in St. John's estimation, 'water totally sucks.'
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And things have been...weird lately. Well, moreso than is usual in Hell. What with his and Sinjin's recent shared loss, and that pestersome gap in his memory, and now this sudden storm...Mmph. Not a happy time, overall.
"What are we, umm, going to do if-if the windows do break?" He asks this as he finally pulls down his hood. "Just...board 'em up, I g-guess?" He wonders where they're going to dig up big enough sheets of plywood to do so.
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Meanwhile, she will interrupt their conversation.
"Or you could become hippies. One with nature." ...Melissa is made of helpful, as always. There's a brief smile sent St. John's way, and a curious look for Ramon, as if he just appeared. "Hi."
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He waves loosely and shakes his head, water splattering everywhere. Probably it's a good thing they're not sitting near anyone else! "Thanks, no." Nature is crap! Or at least the precipitous parts of it are. "If I was any more one with nature I'd need a fucking wringer."
Aaanyway. This is where he fails spectacularly to introduce Ramon and Mel, because...well, he's kind of a douchebag and doesn't so much forget about social pleasantries so much as totally disregards them.
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Ramon's been...away (yes, that's what we'll call his mysterious absence for now), and this girl is new! He'd remember pink hair, he's pretty sure of that. New people are a little scary. New people who are kind of outspoken (that's a nice word for it, isn't it?) are that much more so. Girl new people who happen to be outspoken are on par with finding a snake in the shower with you. Under the assumption you find snakes to be scary, or at least surprising. Anyways.
He's therefore staring at the girl longer than is probably considered socially acceptable. It's a long while before he tries to talk. "....H-Hi. Um." There's a nervous tug on one of his sleeves. "I'm. Ummm. Ramon?" He's still staring. Her pink hair's kinda cool. "...Wait, hip-hippies?" He doesn't get it. Poor shmuck.
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"Eh. You're about there already, actually. S'just a hop, skip, and a jump to growing a beard and tie-dying your manpanties." Yes, manpanties. She sits straddling the back of the chair, because obviously that is more comfortable than normal posture, and gives Ramon a ...slightly fangy smile. This is how Mel does 'friendly' without actively trying to con somebody.
"I'm Melissa. St. John just pick you up, or are you somebody I haven't met yet?" What with how sociable she is and all, the latter would be unusual. ...getting tortured by a demon hospital and then taking it out on the nearest tall, sexually adventurous Roma boy is totally like having a post-apocalyptic social life.
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Also, because it's funny, he can't actually grow a beard. Not even under threat of death. It's just not possible. (as if threat of death stimulated folicular growth...what. ANYHOW.) This is one of the many reasons he will look 12 years old forever, and also results in an irritated eyeroll. "Leave off. Ramon's saving himself for the Virgin Mary."
Yes, this is how we express kindness in these parts! Why.
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"I've...uhhhh, been here. A-A long time. In Hell, I mean. Hell, Wisconsin." In case you, uh, didn't know what state you're in, Melissa. Or were mistaking his statement for the actual, spiritual Hell. Oh Ramon, never stop being a dork.
"I-I was on the same, um, plane. As St. John was. That got us stuck here. And...yeah." Geezy creezy, talking to people is hard.
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As Ramon sits down, a young girl with light blonde hair, azure blue eyes, and a pink t-shirt with a sparkly pony on it says, "You tripped!" She's grinning. People tripping is apparently very funny.
Bridgette's ghostly sister Marie is on the other side of the VFW, so Ramon's ghost sense may or may not be going off.
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"Y-Yeah, I did," he replies with a lopsided smile and a self-defeated chuckle. "Wasn't, um, watching where I was going."
He was just considering asking what her name was, as he doesn't recall any children being prevalent in Hell, but he gets a very familiar, very chilling prickle on the back of his neck. And it makes him look around in a bit of a panic, wondering what's setting it off, if he's trapped in a room with one of them again. Oh this is bad, this is very bad...
Reply
There's a three year old girl with light blonde hair lying on one of the cots in the corner. She's curled around a teddybear; a backpack is on the floor next to the cot, and the one next to her is occupied by backpacks and a wagon full of supplies. Parker is helping Phoebe in the bathroom, allowing Bridgette to roam free.
The three year old is curled away from Ramon, but she wears a dirty pink dress, and the skin of her legs is looking rather corpse-grey and stained with dried blood.
Bridge begins glancing around when Ramon does, looking confused.
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But then his eyes fall on that inconspicuous little girl. She could have passed for an normal child at this distance and at a glance, but now that he's paying attention to her, he realizes how ratty her dress is, can see how her skin is grey, and the red stains...
Ramon's eyes are wide as he stares across the room at her, and he makes a low moan of dread.
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This goes on a bit while longer before Bridgette says, "Her name's Marie. That's her teddybear." Pause. Then lightbulb over head moment! "Are you afraid of teddybears? 'Cuz you shouldn't be."
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